Tinsel in the Snow
by Aleyerrad
Summary: Stumbling upon a dying Tinsel Wyrm hatchling on her way back from Synara, young Firn is compelled to nurse it back to health. Yet, as the seasons pass, bonds are forged between the unlikely pair, and a choice must be made between friendship and freedom.
1. Prologue

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**Tinsel in the Snow**

**[Prologue]**

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_Boundless winter, forge bonds that last till the end of eternity_

Snow fell all around him, white and lifeless, piling up over his weakened body. The sheer cold was but an invitation to the afterlife, or in his case, his invitation to become one with the earth, just as his parents and ancestors did before life bled away as his body racked with hunger and pain, which was surprising, because his kind were hardly ever injured. Even he had no idea how he had gotten himself into such a pathetic state, and he snorted softly with the strength he could muster, eyelids drooping slowly.

The crunching of snow interrupted the mourning air, and a chilled whisper breathed something inaudible.

His silver-gray body twitched weakly as he brought his head up in a pathetic attempt to look at the stranger, trembling amber eyes cautiously inspecting what they could make of the person in front of himself.

Chocolate brown tresses fell around her face, her eyes curtained by the bangs that hung across in a crescent arc. Snow nested in her hair, white specks against a sea of brown, melting as they touched her bare skin and then freezing again. She wore a torn scarf that was striped with a mix of red and yellow across her neck, the fabric barely able to provide any protection from the wind. Over her body was a tattered brown cloak, hiding the soft blue material that resembled more of a turtleneck shirt than a sweater.

Her hands were pale, her white skin seemed to freeze within itself, yet warm and inviting as it stretched towards his armored neck, the girl herself seemingly unaware of his sharp, dagger-tipped scales. He tried to shrill – to his surprise – in an effort to warn the girl of the impending danger.

A coarse feeling raged across his sensitive nerves as the girl flinched in pain, drawing her hand back to inspect the growing pool of red.

_I warned you…_ He growled softly, not that a more threatening sound would chase this girl dressed in rags – why was she here dressed in rags anyway? - away from this godforsaken place.

But no, the girl smiled and brought her bleeding finger closer to his snout, surprising him with the offering of the crimson liquid.

The numbing smell of the wind was overwritten with the scent of warm blood, extremely pleasant to his nose. His stomach wrenched angrily, demanding it be filled with the food that was within his grasp.

Hesitantly yet instinctively, he stretched his neck, and allowed the scarlet to stain his pink tongue. As he fed, she undid the knot of the ribbon that tied her cloak, her free hand moving to blanket his figure with the warm cloth.

_I'm heavy, y' know?_ He crooned softly, knowing what she was about to do though he knew (somehow) that she wouldn't listen.

Indeed, the girl's hand curved around his body, this time avoiding the wall of sharp barbs that protruded from the cloak, cupping around his blanketed self with an unseen gentleness. He allowed himself to be hefted from the frigid soil by his underbelly, detaching from his offered meal and leaning against her chest.

He calmed his prehensile tail in an effort to avoid hurting his savior, eyelids drooping once again as he took in the heat that soaked his freezing muscles. The crunching of snow was like a lullaby, the soothing sound coupled with the falling temperature effectively encouraging his tired body into a deep slumber.

Before his world fell over into darkness, he felt the caress against his cheek, like how his mother would rub against his face with an affection that could not be matched by any other being on earth. He returned the touch with an appreciative coo, stretching his maw into a wide open yawn.

The continuous puffs of warm air informed the girl of her sleeping friend, and she chuckled, slipping quiet steps onto the cobblestone path that lead to a small, old cottage sleeping in the heart of a skeletal forest, their wiry, twisted shapes casting shades of black and white across herself.

Brushing aside the dried ivy that hung from the roof, she opened the creaking door with a push.

"Welcome back, Firn," Her foster mother, an aged women of over seventy years sporting tuffs of graying hair over her scalp, greeted with a smile. Casting a loving look first to the girl, then to the creature sleeping in her arms. "And who might your little friend be?"

"I found him a little a ways from the borders of Arkene, on my way back from Synara." Firn replied, setting the metallic reptile on the floorboards closest to the hearth of the fireplace where a flame danced and twisted with colours of vermilion and saffron over its fuel of dried logs. "I couldn't leave him there while he froze to death, but did I do the right thing?"

Her foster mother gave her a questioning look. Firn turned to her, continuing, "I mean, am I not interrupting the cycle of life and death?"

"What was your purpose of saving him?" The elder woman asked quietly, observing her reaction with calm, ice-blue eyes.

"What do you mean, mama?" Firn raised an eyebrow. What was her caretaker trying to say?

"Why did you save him?" She rephrased her question, turning an eye to the creature. "Was it purely out of goodwill? Or was it because you wanted to gain something from having him around?"

"Of course not!" The girl nearly shouted, and she explained her reason with shaky, nervous gasps. "He was dying, so I… so I…"

"Then you need not question the right or wrong of your actions," The caretaker comforted, rising from her seat on the rocking chair. Hobbling over to the sleeping creature, she took her place beside Firn, and stroked the creature's back, marveling at its glistening silver barbs. "We can always return him to the wild once spring has come and he recovered, if you are still concerned."

Firn nodded softly, heading to the kitchen to prepare a meal from what they had while suppressing a yawn herself. "You've found a very good friend, little one." The elder woman whispered to the reptile she easily identified as a tinsel wyrm, an elusive creature that she only knew about from records in the bestiary from when she was a budding magi.

"And you, my girl, a very powerful ally."


	2. Waking Up

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**[1]**

**Waking Up**

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_Lightning flashed._

_Silver scales, dark in the night's shadows, turned white for but a second._

_A mix of brown and scarlet, the rocks turned black with the rain._

_He never looked back._

_He was running. Running and running and running._

_Away from her. Away from him._

_From what? To where?_

_Pitter patter pitter patter went the rain as it fell._

_The sky crackled with electricity._

_A jagged bolt struck the earth._

_A deep purple shadow raced overhead._

SKREEEEEE!

_There was a delighted shriek._

_Thunder boomed in the distance._

_Black faded to gray._

_Gray faded to white._

_Rocks turned to soil._

_Rain turned to snow._

_He was tired. But he didn't stop. He couldn't stop_

_His feet caught a stray rock._

_He tripped._

_There was cackling laugh._

_A sudden gust of wind._

_And a thousand icy claws crushed him in their grip._

Jolting awake, he panted heavily. Amber eyes darting around, he swiftly turned to the cackling laughter that he had heard. To his immense relief, it was only the sounds of the fire spirits dancing in the hearth of the fireplace.

He thought back to his nightmare. Those claws that pierced his skin and flesh…

Suddenly feeling self-conscioius, he looked down at his body. Silver scales were glowing a pale orange, and the few injuries he had sustained were some minor cuts and a deep gash along the side of his belly, which was already starting to heal nicely.

"Ah, you're awake?"

Startled, a guttural growl formed in his throat as he whipped his head around, the miraculous healing forgotten. The speaker was an elderly human, a magi, he noted, and also a complete stranger to his eyes. Baring ivory fangs, the growl elevated to a sharp snarl as she approached. The barbs along his body bristled and stiffened in response, his chest swelling to prove himself intimidating despite his injured state.

The old magi merely chuckled at his aggressive display.

"My, my. Such a feisty child you are. You remind me so much of Renweard when he was about your age. Snappy and vicious, he wouldn't let anyone near him either. Refused to take his remedy when he fell ill…"

At this point, there was an irritable snap from beyond the windows. He jerked his head up, surprised, and in his heart he felt a pang of fear at whatever was outside the safety of his refuge.

"No need to fear, young one," the magi laughed, drawing his attention from the frosted glass. "Renweard doesn't like to talk about that part of his past. He thinks it… unbecoming of one such as him."

Another snap. Glancing nervously at the window, he was starting to become convinced that beyond those walls was a creature even worse than that dark purple shadow in his nightmare, or the bolt of lightning, or that high-pitched, ear-piercing shriek.

"Renweard is as gentle as a lamb once you get to know him," she reassured. "Pride just makes him too arrogant to display such affections."

If he had eyebrows, he would have raised them at the eccentricity of the magi before him.

From what he had been taught, magi were people to be avoided. They were cruel. They were greedy. They enslave others for their own purposes. They sacrifice them for use in the occult arts. He had seen, in his younger days, the various scars on his parents, the vestiges of attacks made by poaching magi. All magi were that evil.

The image of a girl with long, brown tresses and silver-blue eyes flashed across his mindscape.

Fine. _Excluding_ the girl magi who saved him, all other magi were evil.

"Now then, what happened to you?"

Her voice snapped him out of his thoughts. Blinking once, he cocked his head at her question, but the door creaked open the second the elder magi opened her mouth, and a cheery voice floated in from the porch.

"Mama! I'm home!"

He knew that voice. Swiftly turning to the scarred wood door, he watched as the girl magi walked in from the front door, a bag in her hands and a worn satchel strapped across her chest.

"Welcome back, Firn."

So her name was Firn, he noted quietly.

He met her eyes.

With a sudden exclamation of, "Oh! You're awake!" she was in his face, staring into his eyes with her own. Stunned, he jerked backwards, almost catching her fingers with his barbs, again. Her hand, which he guiltily noted now had a bandage on it, had moved over to inspect the wound.

"I hope the balm worked alright," she rambled, moving over the gash. He flinched at her touch. "It's not meant for such deep wounds." She was still fingering the edges of the wound. He growled in warning. If she hadn't been the one to save him, he'd bite off her hand for her insolence. Instead, a growl sufficed for the moment. "I'll mix up a batch of potions that accelerate healing later, with sufficient amounts of painkiller solution to-"

"Firn dear, you're hurting him," the elderly magi interrupted.

"Oh!" the girl immediately lifted her hand from his wound. "I'm so sorry!"

He sniffed. Perhaps the old lady wasn't that bad after all.

"Don't mind Firn," she said, "She loves anything related to Alchemy, so she rambles off endlessly and loses sight of things until I stop her."

Firn smiled sheepishly, her face flushing a light pink in embarrassment.

"Ah, that's right! I haven't introduced myself, have I?"

_You're Firn, aren't you? _He asked, cocking his head.

"My name's Firn," she repeated. "My elemental specialty is ice. I'm currently studying Alchemy and Herbology in the Keep, so I do know a bit of healing arts and potion-making."

He didn't really understand what this 'alchemy' was, but what he did know was that herbology involved the study of various flora and their innate magical properties. He didn't know why the girl had chosen to study herbology when he could feel the ice magic flowing within her.

With winter comes snow. With snow comes ice. It was the bane of plants and flowers, and unlike the other natural elements of fire, earth, metal, wood, water and wind, ice was the conception of all the worst aspects of nature. Representing death, regret, isolation, and hopelessness, anyone with an ice affinity usually ended up dabbling in the dark arts. For an ice mage to partake in the study of life was unheard of.

"Firn, let the child rest."

"Mama! You have to introduce yourself first!"

Mama? So this was her mother? He looked between the two females, and noted quietly that they looked nothing alike.

"I do?"

Firn nodded furiously. The older magi chuckled.

"Very well then."

Turning to him, the lady held out her hand, palm faced upwards.

"My name is Martha. I'm Firn's adoptive mother."

He felt a start as the information coursed through his head.

"Now that the introductions are done, I'll go and prepare the potion for you," she smiled. "You'll be just fine after drinking it, I assure you that."

He watched as Firn left the room with a skip in her step, and all of a sudden, the room's temperature could have had fallen by a hundred degrees. He wondered what this strange feeling in his body was.


End file.
